Cabin Fever
by Castion-and-Clockwork
Summary: Jim muses about how Cabin Fever affects his crew and helps his First Officer alleviate his own symptoms. Cuddly, Possessive Spock. Space Husbands. Fluff.


Being locked up in a Starship did things to people, gave them cabin fever that crawled around inside their bodies and made them do things by accident, driven by a force that yearned for soil under their feet, waves of water lapping at their skin, and fresh air expanding their lungs.

Chekov was the first to catch the bug, his lithe fingers a bit more clumsy than usual, his genius, now legally-an-adult brain getting side tracked by every little detail of something that wasn't his job. If someone came to the bridge requesting assistance in engineering, he'd volunteer. If while in engineering he overheard someone needing supplies delivered to MedBay, he'd stop his project and make his way up to the Infirmary. The little Russian had a sort of wandering problem that marched him right out of his duties and right under peoples' feet, as if he couldn't stand to be stuck doing mundane tasks anymore. The only problem was that Jim kept calling for him and finding him absent, or misplaced, and in one instance, hanging upside down from the weapon's bay door so he could _"rescrew the sign, it has been a bit off center for quite some time, sir."_

Jim knew when he saw someone itching to be useful so he let the kid bounce from project to project but knew the longer it continued; the more the projects would go half-finished as Chekov piled more on.

Uhura, though she seemed to be above a lot of things, was the second to feel the bite for shore leave. Jim caught it in the way she'd begin to mumble to herself in languages he'd skimmed over for his Fleet Finals, her nails looking shorter and bitten with chipped paint. In the break room she would don sweat pants and her house slippers, a cheetah print with faux fur that Jim bet felt amazing after having to slip on the melded boots for uniform, and to top it off, she'd glance a bit more longingly at a few of the couples and crew members as they walked by. The looks weren't the flirtatious, vixen glimpses Jim had seen her prowl around a Port Bar before, no, these were doe eyes, soft brown looks that spoke of self-conscious questions like _"how long since I've been held like that?"_ or _"I wonder if they like to read the works of Shakespeare in the moonlight."_

When Jim notices this stage, he sets aside time to lounge with her on the observation deck, nibbling at pretzel sticks and M&M's and if he lets her pick a chick flick to play on the vid screen, well, it's their secret that they both cry at the end.

Sulu is next and, though his work never suffers, Jim overhears Ensigns complaining about the Helmsmen's antics after shift as he tries to cope with his tics the best way he knows, his obsessions. Which lead to fencing duals that put three of his opponents in Sick Bay, a Botany room filled with flowers that have been spliced and snipped to immeasurable beauty and deadliness when approached, and a sleep pattern that forces Kirk to turn him in at least twice a week for a checkup or booster hypos. He knows that Hikaru's behaviors aren't bordering dangerous, but when Spock had mentioned that Sulu had spent 22 hours straight on his shift off trying to recreate a flower that would produce ganglia and partial neurons to pick up human speech patterns, Jim drew the line and revoked his science labs pass and key code. Sulu's sulking matched his obsessive behavior, until Jim put Pavel to work on that, and neither has been seen for three shifts.

Spock though, bless his Vulcan suppressed, hardworking, perfectionist soul, didn't broad cast his need for shore leave like the others did. His performance and psyche seemed never to deteriorate no matter how long they had been drifting in the vast emptiness of interstellar space. Nor did he seem to care when they landed for shore leave either. Sure, he'd beam down, try a dish from the highest rated local eating establishment, because if there was one thing Jim found the Half Vulcan had a weakness for it was cultural cuisine, and then he'd beam aboard to join the skeleton crew and make sure everything was in order for their reassembly and take off. Every once in a while Jim could make a case and rope him into seeing some attractions, a museum, monument, maybe a historical site or two, but Spock never stayed planet side without some well versed coercion. Instead, Spock's cabin fever literally stoked itself in the cabin, which had caught Jim, who had been preening over their new, shiny six month relationship at the time, completely off guard.

Because just like his human counterparts, Spock became antsy, longed for attention, and his obsessions went well explored when he got the chance.

Which was why Jim was now currently cuddled in a thick mass of warm quilts, which still smelled faintly of incense after they had been washed, eyes drooping with exhaustion, skin still tingling from all the attention his lover paid him over the last three hours.

"Spock, come to bed, you're driving me crazy with all your pacing."

The Vulcan quirked his head just a bit, as of to catch what Jim had said, then continued stalking about the corners of the room, eyeing the door as his ears no doubt picked up the footsteps of ensigns milling about the ship.

"Quiet." The deep voice resounded like a dark chord plucked on a bass guitar, Spock's bare shoulders rolling, flexing the muscles in his back as he turned and strode the length of the space again, his instincts trying to make sense of the scents in Jim's room.

"I already told you, Bones came in and had a few drinks while we talked about the refit he'll need in order to take on the wounded cadets from Chorot IV, Luitenant Rand stood in the door way and made me sign papers on the improved code of conduct Star Fleet just issued after the harassment charges against an officer on Pike's ship, and Carol stopped by to chat about her new theories on planetary remodeling." Jim rolled on his back and moaned a breathy sigh as he stretched, feeling worn out and reborn at the same time. Spock's baser Vulcan tendencies hated when Jim had the scent of other's on him or around his quarters, and in turn made sure Jim knew whose mate he was, if the last three hours where anything to show by it.

But even with Kirk's placation, the Half Vulcan growled low and warning at Carol's name, his biting aura fluxing Jim's mind as well. Spock turned swiftly from the door and kneeled beside the bed, his unzipped trousers hanging a bit low on his hips, the material scuffing at the knees as he positioned himself in front of Jim's direct line of vision.

"Do not speak of her." The jealousy in his eyes was almost palpable as the pupils blacked the thin ring of amber, the sheer want thrumming in the bond exciting and enthralling to Jim who squeezed his legs together with need.

"But she has some really interesting viewpoints, Spock. She even has a theory that she's labeled as 'Genesis', which would take a rocky, desolate planet and-" but his explanation was cut short as his mate crawled bodily into bed, a force of flexing muscle and growling, ruffled temper that Jim could only soothe with his hands in his hair and hot lips on the cool green flushed shoulders.

"Easy, Tiger. Her theories are nowhere near as complex and well cited or logically supported as yours." Jim's golden grin curled as he sealed his lips over the point of an ear and simply pressed, tasting the shape and uniqueness of it like a brand on his tongue. He felt pride swell in his chest as the Vulcan force turned supple and loving under his simple touches, Spock now purring deeply in his chest as he nuzzled under Jim's throat, hair silky and cool as his kisses were to the human's red flushed collarbone and chest. "You're my one and only, you know that." Kirk reassured as he stroked his lover's strong jaw and then cradled his head as Spock nestled over his stomach, eyes looking heavy as he covered Jim with his body and purred contentedly again.

"As you are mine." The smile that Spock gave then was brilliant in its sincerity, no matter how tiny, just the corner of his lips curling; a few lines creasing by his eyes as Jim felt a glimmer of happiness vibrate through him.

He remembers a smile like that accompanied by lines carved much deeper by emotive, wistful eyes, eyes his lover would have long after he had gone.

But as the dizziness and drowsiness of Spock's slumber warmed his side of the bond, Jim didn't let himself be too troubled with it. He would love his mate as deeply and as long as possible, and in the morning he'd worry about the rest.


End file.
